Page 118 of Down Comes the Night

“I haven’t much breath left in me to waste,” Heloise said snappishly. “I did advise you to burn that letter.”

“In retrospect, that might have been wise.” They walked through the halls, the light from the low-burning chandeliers running down stone pillars like melted wax. “That mistake has cost me and my friends everything. Even if we survive, everything is ruined. Lowry still has the queen’s ear. She’ll still go to war if Parliament doesn’t check her.”

Heloise let out a disbelieving sound. “Truly, you have never listened to a single word I’ve said. What does the Goddess teach us?” When Wren didn’t respond immediately, she said, “It is not until you have lost everything that you can begin anew.”

Wren did not know what to say.

“Times are changing,” Heloise said after a beat.

“I think so, too.” Wren stole a look over her shoulder at Hal. He walked just a few paces behind Una, his shoulders stiff as he gazed solemnly up at the ribbed ceiling. “I can only hope for the better.”

Heloise stopped in front of two doors. “You may stay here for now, but I want you gone by sundown tomorrow. May the Goddess keep you.”

“Thank you, Mother. I can’t repay you for—”

“Think not of it until this is over.” Heloise hobbled straight ahead, the steadythunkof her cane announcing each stride. “Good night.”

The three of them lingered uncertainly in the hall, attended only by the sound of fire whispering in torches. The air was redolent with the smells of smoke and frankincense. Una broke the uneasy silence first. “Try to get some sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and you look like you need it, Cavendish.”

“Yes.” Hal cut her an irritated look. “Your men made it quite difficult to sleep.”

“Good night!” Wren cut in brightly. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.” With a last, withering glare at Hal, Una disappeared into one of the rooms. Their journey to Vesria would be long—even longer with these two constantly sniping at each other. After everything they’d survived, they’d better not kill each other on the way.

When she turned over her shoulder, she caught Hal regarding her as if he wanted to ask her a question. Although his expression was soft, she could see his exhaustion. He wore it like the weight of a thousand years. Understandable, when he’d been sentenced to death only earlier today.

That was when it struck her. They’d escaped from the North Tower. They were fugitives. They were alive. He must have come to the same realization, because the air grew thick and magnetic between them. Moonlight filtered through the latticed windows like water through a sieve, washing everything soft and shimmery.

“This is impossible,” Wren whispered.

“It is.”

At first, neither of them moved, paralyzed by the weight of it. She worried that he would shatter if she touched him. She feared he would vanish if she so much as blinked. But she needed to make sure he was real. She needed to hold him. If not now, then when?

They stepped toward each other in unison, and all her hesitation evaporated. Wren flung her arms wide and latched herself around his middle. His warmth seeped into her, and she wanted nothing more than to drown in the comfort of it, the knowledge that he was safe and here with her. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Goddess above, Hal. I can’t… I was so…” What word could sufficiently capture what grief he’d put her through? Wren stifled a sob, caught somewhere between anguish and relief. “I never should have let you go through with that plan!”

“It went better than expected,” he offered. “I’m alive.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes!” She pulled back enough to glare at him. “They hurt you. I should have made it to you sooner. I should have done something at that trial, or—”

“Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry? Do you want me to quit drawing breath? Quit thinking? That’s what you’re asking of me. This never would have happened if not for me.”

“This was not your fault. It was my choice. One I would gladly make again if it meant protecting you.” He cupped the side of her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. “Besides, I’ve endured worse.”

Wren shook her head, her throat stinging with a sudden rush of emotion. She swallowed it down.Not yet.“You have an unmatched talent for minimizing things, Cavendish. It’s impressive.”

When she dared to look up again, his expression was wide open. How could she ever have thought him unreadable? Right now, his eyes were clear, shining blue, and she saw her own heart reflected back at her.

“Come on,” she murmured, twining her fingers with his. “I’ll show you where you can wash up.”

The air tasted bittersweet. Like salt and smog and home.

After she’d unbuttoned herself from her uniform and changed into a nightdress, Wren pressed her face against the cracked-open window beside the bed. She sucked in gulps of cold, polluted air. If she died for her country, she wanted to remember it well. Through the thick black fog, she saw only the faint glimmer of the city lights and smelled little but ash and sheep. But she felt the precious heartbeat of lives all around her.